Darkness of the Heart
by Seadragon
Summary: Rikash Salmalin attended a Carthaki school for Gifted for seven years, but cannot go on to the University, so pitiful his gift is. He has two choices; go home to Tortall and face the music, or try and make it alone in Carthak.
1. Chapter 1: A Warning of Failure

**Darkness of the Heart**

Chapter 1: _A Warning of Failure___

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Rikash Salmalin wiped his eyes furiously, his hand coming away moist with tears. He sniffed, and scrubbed his hand on his tunic.

It just wasn't fair, that's all.

His father was the most powerful mage in the Eastern Land, probably the world, his mother was the Wildmage, his sister was a shape shifter, and he had barely enough magic to fill a teacup.

So, somehow, he had ended up in Carthak. How? So his parents wouldn't have to worry about having to protect him. After all, they were rather important people, and couldn't afford to have their helpless son kidnapped and held hostage. So they had sent him to school in Carthak, and given him a new name. Well, part of a new name. They had decided it would be fine for him to keep Rikash, because, while it wasn't a common name, it had been used once or twice before.

His mother had suggested Draper for his new last name, and after a couple minutes of heated discussion, his father had agreed, if slightly reluctantly. So here he was, Rikash Draper, at a Carthaki school for the Gifted, when he couldn't even boil water without a fire.

And that was precisely why he was crying.

From his first day at the school, he had stood out among the other students. And in a little under a fortnight, they could hope to be accepted into the University, but Rikash would not follow. Already his teachers showed their displeasure at his insistence that he apply for the great university, as when the men from the University came to review the applicants, they would surely not be impressed by the scrappy youth with no magical power, a weakling to boot.

He knew he was a weakling, had never tried to convince himself otherwise. He knew because his parents first choice for him had been to join the King's Own, or the Queen's Riders, both of which he had been laughed out of on the first day. The only good thing about being shipped to Carthak was that he had gotten away from all the whispers and mocking smiles from those at court.

Unfortunately, there were whisperers here too, but it didn't stop at that. With a sigh, Rikash touched a delicate finger to his cheekbone, just below his left eye, and winced. His finger, slightly swollen from being bent back on it's self, was resting on top of a fading purple bruise.

He had, of course, told the professors that he had tripped in his quarters, and clipped his eye on his desk, and they, of course, had known he was lying. But that had been the first thing his sister had taught him when she had visited from her own school, so wise in the ways of the world at the age of eleven, to never tell who you fought with.

But Sarralyn had never been beaten on by her fellow students. She had never had to hide bruises or cuts. She had never had to make excuses that only made her sound clumsy and stupid. But, of course she hadn't, because she was everything he wasn't, strong, powerful, and charming. The only thing he had going for him was his memory, which allowed him to remember anything, from anytime, which was the only reason he hadn't flunked out yet.

Thinking of his nineteen-year-old sister, back home in Tortall, brought the tears back in force. This time he didn't bother to wipe them away. There was no one around to see him cry but the servants, and even they seemed to be absent for the most part. It was nearing ten in the evening, and all his fellow students were away studying in one of the larger libraries.

He had been with them, reading a book on magical theory, before the whispers, laughs, and stares had driven him away. His book, the subject of which they had a test on the next day, was still sitting open on the table, having been forgotten in his haste to escape. He knew he should go back and retrieve it, but was too cowardly to do so.

So now he would fail the test, which would make him even more undesirable in the eyes of the University. Not that he had any hopes of ever attending it, unless, somehow, overnight, he gained power. Real power. It was a dream he had had his entire life, ever since he had learned how little he could do, how useless he was. It was a dream he still had today, one that left him anxious every time he woke, hopeful that this morning would be _the_ morning. But every time, when he lit the candle he had beside his bed for this purpose and this purpose only, the same meager fire of his Gift answered him. The candle's wick would lit, only to die out seconds later, not having even enough power to make the flame substantial.

He didn't know what he would do after he graduated, only to be turned down by the university.

Rikash leaned against the stone wall of the hallway, letting it support him. His tanned skin was a sharp contrast to the white stone. Even in appearance he stood out among the other, Carthaki born, students. His skin, though tanned from the constant exposure to the sun, was practically white in comparison to his fellow students, and his blue eyes, currently filled with tears, and yet another ting that set him a part from his parents, were unnatural to them. This however, he didn't mind so much, imagining how they gawk at his parents' close friend, Alanna the Lioness, with her famed purple eyes.

Thankfully, they couldn't mock him for his cloths, as they were a uniform the school required all students to wear. They were quite the image, dressed all in white in such a colorful country. The only color the students _were _allowed was a belt, in any color they desired. Rikash's was royal blue, chosen to match his eyes. Other students stretched this rule as far as they could, threading as many as six different strands of color around their waists.

Said uniform was currently getting crumpled against the wall, and was soaked through where his chin rested against it. Rikash sobbed quietly, drawing little or no attention to himself when a servant bustled by, large woven basket in hand. Whether the servant girl even glanced his way, he couldn't say, the tears succeeding in clouding his vision.

When another girl rushed past, this one carrying a large bundle of cloth, Rikash put a white sleeve to his eyes, drying them at the expense of his uniform. Standing up straighter, he straightened the wrinkled clothes with one hand, the other untangling his bright blue belt.

A pair of male servants, carrying a bench between them, narrowly missed flattening Rikash against the white stone. He scowled and moved so that he was blocking their way. Hoping that his eyes weren't too puffy, he held up a hand. "Excuse me, but what reason do you have for coming this way so late at night?"

The men glanced each other, both his elder by several years, before setting the bench down at their feet. The taller of the two, a dark skinned Carthaki native, bowed. "Begging your pardon sir, but has sir forgotten the visit from the Royal Carthaki University tomorrow? We are preparing a room for their viewing of the students, sir. If sir would excuse us?"

Rikash nodded, stepping aside to let them pass. They picked up their bench and did so, inclining their heads to him. When they had disappeared around the corner, Rikash shuddered. He had forgotten that tomorrow were the preliminary interviews, with several delegates from the University coming to see the year's candidates. No decisions would be made, but they would be taking notes in their heads, asking questions and demonstrations of the students.

Not wanting to be any worse off tomorrow then he had to be, Rikash wandered in the direction the servants had gone, not to the Exhibition Hall, but to one of the smaller libraries near it. There he could hope to find a book on magical history, maybe the biography of a Carthaki sorcerer. At the very least, he could sleep undisturbed until morning.

Rikash had a relatively long stride, having inherited some height from his father, but still the hurrying servants passed him, one after another, some remembering to bow or incline their heads, others too involved in their tasks. He kept to the side of the walkway, keeping out of their way as much as he could.

It appeared he would have to return to Tortall soon. Unsurprisingly, this idea did not fill him with excitement, after all, he had been living in Carthak since he had turned ten, returning only to visit, or apply for the various fighting forces. As of now, he hadn't been home in just over two years, since shortly before his fifteenth birthday. He had taken an extended holiday from the school, under the guise of a death in the family, while in reality he had been attending his sister's own graduation from school. She, of course, had been accepted into the Royal University in Tortall, and was nearing the end of her second year there.

His parents couldn't have been prouder.

He himself had been proud, had cheered along with the rest when she had been handed that small scrying mirror, the name of the University inscribed on the back. Inside, he had been sulking, having realized he would never make his parents that proud, never have a crowd applauding for him. It had been, and still was, a dreary thought.

By the time he got to the library in question, he had taken so much time walking there that the bell was tolling the hour, and sending everyone to bed. Everyone but him, that is. He would remain in that library until the first light of dawn shown through the oversized windows and woke him, only to be greeted with panic and despair. The test would begin in three hours, followed by the arrival of the University representatives, and he had slept with a book on the conjuring of fire under his head for most of the night.

The bell tolled again, crying the hour to any awake, and Rikash was overcome by waves of anxiety. He opened a book on magic in the early 300s, and started reading.


	2. Chapter 2: A Realization of Hopelessness

**Darkness of the Heart**

Chapter 2: _A Realization of Hopelessness

* * *

_

Rikash fidgeted in his seat, watching the master's assistant walk down the rows of students, a few still scribbling madly, collecting their papers. As always, Rikash sat near the end of the row to the furthest right, so that he had a few extra minutes to finish, should he ever need it. Unfortunately, it was the practical exams he had trouble with, not the written. His own pages were full, words scrawled at a slight slant.

A large slate at the front of the room had the ten questions they were required to answer written on it in white chalk. Rikash had managed to answer them all, and fairly satisfactorily in his mind. Now he was anxious for it be taken, so that he could escape from the stifling heat of the Examination Hall.

It was nearly summer, true summer, a summer that made even true Carthakis sweat and be in discomfort. Despite the fact that he had spent seven years, and seven summers, here in Carthak, Rikash still thought of himself as a Northerner.

When the assistant finally made his way down the last row, snatching papers off of students' desks, students on the other side of the room were already walking out the doors on shaky legs. For the first time, Rikash regretted sitting so far to the end.

His paper having just been taken, Rikash pushed his chair back and stood up, stretching his legs. His white pants were, once again, too short, ending about an inch above his ankle. But seeing as there was only ten days left until graduation, he wasn't going to worry about it too much. Though, he didn't really have any other clothes, besides a few other sets of the uniform.

Rikash sighed. Looks like he would be heading for the school tailor's before the delegates arrived.

As one of the last students to leave the Hall, the walkways were nearly deserted. All things considered, he felt he had done fairly well, at least compared to the boy who sat in front of him. He had spent the entire test shaking, and sweating. Well, they had all been sweating in the heat, but this boy… Rikash shook his head, he wouldn't be surprised if _his_ test paper wasn't even readable.

Walking to his rooms, Rikash wiped a sleeve across his forehead. This, thankfully, dislodged his brown hair, which had previously been plastered against his head with sweat. It seemed as though his appearance was the only thing he had inherited from his parents, his hair was the exact same color as his mother.

He had two hours until the students would be called to the Exhibition Hall, where they would greet the masters from the Imperial University. All of which would be spent in the tailor's, being stuck with pins. Rikash sighed, at least most of his bruises had faded.

The tailor wouldn't be pleased to see him, Rikash though wryly, as he collected his two spare sets of uniforms in his arms. This was the third time this year he had had to have his hems let down. The only good thing about this trip was that while he was there, he would have the chance to get another belt, perhaps a red, or dark purple.

It was a little harder than he would have liked to see over the pile of clothes in his arms. He had to rely heavily on what he remembered of the route. Unfortunately, he hadn't reckoned on the steady flow of servants too and from the Exhibition and Dining Halls. They were generally able to avoid him, but one, carrying a similar load, in that it impaired his sight, ran straight into him.

This wouldn't have been too bad, but this particular servant was at least a foot taller than Rikash, and about twice his weight. Rikash got knocked off his feet, into a column, his clothes dropped unceremoniously. The servant's basket of gems and jewelry scattered all over the floor.

The man, according to Rikash, was the nearest thing to a giant he had ever seen. Which was probably why he was given the task of carrying such a heavy load. The jewels he had been carrying where the ones the students were expected to magic. He gulped, there was no way he would be able to do that. The servant was still standing, which could only be expected when you are that size.

Rikash, slightly sore from smashing into a stone column, got to his knees and began scooping up the sparkly stones and dumping them in the basket, praying that none had shattered. The servant just watched him, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Picking up the last jewel, Rikash got to his feet, wiping off the knees of his pants as he stood. Still the taller man was silent. "Sorry." Rikash mumbled, and, glancing back at the man one last time, grabbed his dropped clothes, and hurried on.

As he had expected, the tailor gave him a dirty look when he opened the door on a large pile of clothes. Underneath this, of course, was an apologetic Rikash, with a shrug ready for the tailor's inquiry as to why he grew so much. It was the same thing he asked every time the only blue eyed student showed up on his doorstep.

With a sigh, the tailor, an elderly fellow with salt and pepper hair, waved him in.

It was half an hour before he let Rikash go, the teenager decidedly sorer, resulting from his short flight earlier, as well as several pin holes all over his body, compliments of the tailor. Walking down the hallway, after promising to return in another hour to pick up his clothes, he rubbed his wrist, where a particularly sharp pin had left its mark.

So now he had an hour to kill, if it didn't kill him first, wearing a pair of borrowed clothes, since all of his were being altered. His fellow students would be preparing for the arrival of the University masters eagerly, so at least he didn't have to worry about any run ins with them. He knew he _should_ be practicing, so that he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself when he was handed a jewel, but he couldn't bring himself to go through an hour of repetitive failure. There really was no point in practicing, no amount of practice could make his Gift any stronger. The most he could do was a weak protection spell, and only on an object that was very susceptible to magic. The jewel would flare once when near a drink containing poison. Quite worthless if you asked him, since it had to be all but immersed in the drink to work.

Slightly absorbed in his thoughts, Rikash tripped. He stumbled once before putting a hand against the wall to steady himself. He clenched his teeth, afraid to look up and see what he had tripped over. Unfortunately, looking down want much better. He blinked, and barely had time to register what he was seeing before a knee jerked up and jabbed him in the stomach. Hard.

Rikash grunted, doubling over, tears clouding his blue eyes. His attackers laughed, watching him. "What's the matter Draper? Worried sick about tonight? I would be if I were you, thankfully, I'm not." The speaker was a boy his age, one with a moderately powerful gift, to go with his moderate intelligence. This wasn't the first time he had beaten on Rikash, not by a long shot. If he had cared to remember all the times he had awoken bruised and sore, he would have been out of his mind, however, he did know that it had happened for the first time shortly after his first practical class, in which he completely failed to do whatever they had been asked.

Many times before, he had been tempted to reply 'actually, it's not Draper, its Salmalin' if only just to see the looks on their faces. Everyone at the school knew who his father was, they just didn't know that he was his father. They also knew his mother, but he wasn't quite sure how. Probably something to do with her being the Wild mage, no one had ever bothered to tell him. But, as always, he knew better, and kept his mouth shut. There was a reason he wasn't allowed to use his last name, and, knowing his parents, it was probably a very good one.

Instead, he just stayed quiet, and let them hurt him. It wasn't like he could do anything to stop them, if he tried to fight back, they would use their Gifts, and he would be that much worse off. It was better just to let them do what they wanted, and then deal with the bruises as best he could. That was what he had done for seven years now, and he wasn't about to change, not with only ten days left. Once those ten days were over, he would never have to see any of his fellow students again. Mainly because he wouldn't be accepted into the Academy, but also because he would be leaving for Tortall the day after Graduation.

He raised his head to look the other boy in the eye, and realized there were about five others there as well. Rikash gulped, this was not going to be pretty. Jekair, the one who had kneed him in the stomach, grinned, before swinging his fist at the brunette's face.

When Rikash finally limped into the tailor's an hour later, the bruise next to his eye that had nearly faded was back, in living color, and had brought friends.

The tailor only frowned before dumping the clothes in the teenager's arms, and pointing him at a small, curtained off, section of the room. Rikash shuffled over, attempting to wipe some dried blood off his lip as he did so. Praying he wouldn't be stuck with more pins, Rikash stripped down to a pair of cotton shorts, discarding the loaner clothes on an upturned bucket. He pulled the white shirt over his head, wincing as a bruise on his back was stretched.

Thankfully, both the pants and shirt fit, so he wouldn't be subject to the tailor's heavy hand again. Pushing the curtain aside, he held his newly altered clothes in his arms, one pair on. Rikash thanked the tailor, eyeing the belts. Sighing, the tailor nodded at the rack. "Size and color?"

"Size five, and red please." Sadly, the significance of this was lost on him. The tailor however, smiled sardonically, and handed the youth a bright red length of cord.


	3. Chapter 3: A Notice of Nightmares

**Darkness of the Heart**

Chapter 3: _A Notice of Nightmares_

* * *

Rikash twisted one sleeve nervously, eyes trained on the simple white fabric. He had known the meeting with the University Masters was going to be awkward for him, but this was a bit much. He had spent the entire time huddled in a corner, careful not to catch anyone's eye. All around him, other students were holding up lively conversations with the professors. To make it that much worse, he only had five minutes, if that, before the exhibitions started. Rikash groaned, you would think that by now he was used to making a fool of himself, but sadly, that was not the case. He could almost hear the laughter now.

Hang on, he _could_ hear laughter. Rikash glanced up, and immediately regretted doing so. Jekair was leading a middle-aged man in his direction, flashing a smirk at him before saying something to his shadow. "I'd like you to meet a colleague of mine, professor. This is Rikash Draper, he's in the same year as myself, and is graduating as well." Rikash gave Jekair a dirty look before offering the professor a weak smile. "Rikash, this is Professor Manza, he teaches the study of animals at the University. I leave you two to get to know each other."

Rikash watched Jekair's retreating back until it was lost among the other students. He turned to Manza with a gulp. "Um, have you, uh, enjoyed yourself this evening sir?" He was quite aware of all the blood draining out of his head and wouldn't have been surprised if he just keeled over on the spot. Fortunately, Manza chose not to comment on this.

"Why yes," He said, brushing a stray hair behind his ear before continuing. "Your school is quite charming. I came here myself you know, but that was many years ago, and it's quite different than how I remember it. Have you been here quite long?"

Rikash blinked. The man appeared to be rather fond of that word. "Er, yes, seven years now. I enrolled when I was ten." He bit his lip and looked down at the wooden floor. He knew what Manza's next question would be, and there was no way to answer it without sounding absolutely pathetic without lying. And there was no point in lying because in about two minutes, he would have to go and make a fool of himself in front of the entire room.

The light globes blinking out for a second very nearly brought Rikash to his knees. It seemed that luck was on his side tonight. It was about time. "Would all final year students please approach the front of the room?" A magically magnified voice announced, but this was no request. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Rikash nodded politely to Manza before shuffling away, wondering whether or not he should consider this fortune or not. On one hand, he was saved from the embarrassment of having to admit he wasn't powerful enough to get into the University, but on the other, he was going to have a chance to prove it.

An elbow in the side distracted him. "Ready to be laughed at?" Jekair whispered nastily, covering up both the shove and the words exchanged by pretending that he had tripped. Rikash shuddered. No, no he really wasn't, if he been given the choice, he would have run as fast as possible in the other direction by now. Unfortunately, things didn't work that way.

The students jostled each other as they moved into a line. Rikash managed to stay on his feet, and got a spot near the middle. Hopefully, this way, he'd be forgotten about by the end of the night. Probably not, but it was certainly better than going last. Rikash watched quietly as, one by one, the students reached into the bowl with their eyes closed, and pulled out either a gem or a piece of jewelry. He watched as, one by one, they concentrated carefully on casting a spell of some sort on the object. He watched as, one by one, they demonstrated what they had done, and, one by one, bowed to the politely clapping crowd. He watched as, one by one, the line in front of him grew shorter and shorter.

And then, the way to the front was clear, and it was his turn. Swallowing nervously, Rikash stepped forward, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, afraid to step even a little in either direction, knowing it would only give him the opportunity to bolt, which was looking quite appealing at the moment. Rikash shook his head, he couldn't give up before he even started, even if it was entirely hopeless. Shutting his eyes tightly, he stuck a hand in the offered bowl. He dug around for a bit, looking for something that he would be able to do _something_ to. At last his fingers closed around something very smooth. He pulled his hand from the bowl carefully, and opened his eyes at the same time that he opened his hand. A perfect black opal, a bead of sliver hanging it from a silver chain, lay in his hand.

He had gotten lucky. So very lucky he could scarcely believe it. Opals were the most receptive to magic a stone could get. But he wasn't out of trouble yet, it wasn't like his spell was very impressive. It was nothing compared to what Henan Leppa, the class clown, had done, just a few students before him. His charm, a piece of solid blue quartz, which just happened to be the least receptive to magic, had started whistling a popular tune, one that everyone in the audience knew, whenever a weapon was trained on its wearer, no matter how far away the weapon maybe.

Rikash blinked, and then focused on the opal. He felt for his tiny seed of magic, and drew out a fine thread, feeding it into the stone in his palm. The sparkling blue fire seeped into the opal slowly, filling it with a harsh, cool, light. "So mote it be." Rikash whispered, the words audible to only him, when the stone could take no more. Thankfully, it was a considerably small opal, as he was nearly out of magic already. He was just glad he hadn't picked up a piece of quartz, or a solid metal. He would have been laughed off the imaginary stage then for sure.

He glanced up at the professor nearest to him. "You don't happen to have any poison?" He asked nervously, waiting as the professor pulled out a small vial. He took the offered container, and opened it carefully. Taking a glass of plain water from the table next to him, he added a drop of the poison. He capped the poison and returned it to its owner. He waited for the poison to mix with the water for a moment, and, crossing his fingers, brought the opal closer to the glass.

A few inches away from the glass's opening, the opal flared a bright blue, the same color as his meager gift. Rikash's knees nearly gave out in relief. Sure, it wasn't spectacular, or even particularly useful, considering most hosts would be quite offended if you went around testing your drinks for poison, but it had worked. The applause, though delayed and rather hesitant, was still applause. Rikash bowed, dropped the stone reluctantly, and moved away to allow the next student to show off.

As students continued to move forward and take their turn in the spotlight, Rikash fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He didn't dare look up, he didn't want to see the stares that he could feel. He also didn't want to have to deal with the angry look from his professors, the ones that had been so against his even applying to the University. Rikash couldn't even remember why he had bothered, it was so pointless. He wasn't going to get in, he was just embarrassing himself.

Sighing again, Rikash glanced up to see how many more students were left. Unfortunately for him, there were at least twenty, so he would be stuck there for at least another half hour. This was just his luck. He looked away from the front quickly when one of the University Delegates gave him a cold look. Did he really deserve that? Rikash wondered. He hadn't done anything _wrong_, per say, he just wasn't very good with magic. That much at least should be obvious.

He scanned the crowd despite his better judgment. People avoided meeting his searching eyes. Was he really that embarrassing? Did they want him gone that badly? Stupid question, Rikash thought wryly. Of course he was, of course they did. If he was one of them, he would probably feel the same way. You would think they might have a little pity for the poor magically impaired boy though, but apparently not.

Jekair caught his eye as he continued to look around, and smirked at him triumphantly. Rikash just ignored him, it wasn't like Jekair had actually expected him to do anything spectacular, so he wasn't sure why he was being so superior. So what, he wasn't any good at magic, or fighting, or getting along with people, or… Rikash sighed. There he went again, making himself depressed. But it was so hard to stay cheerful, especially at times like this.

Back in Tortall, all his parents' friends, and his family, and, well, everyone, had at least one thing they were good at. His mum could talk to animals, his dad could turn people into trees, his sister could hunt criminals, his godparents were master swordswomen, great rulers, diplomats, soldiers, and spymasters. And he had to go back to that in just under two weeks. Rikash briefly considered drinking the poison he had used for his demonstration, but mentally kicked himself. Suicide wouldn't help anything.

There had to be something he was good at, _anything_. He wouldn't care if that one thing was juggling, or cooking, or even sewing. There just had to be something he could do, something that would mean he wasn't useless. Closing his eyes tightly, and blocking out the noise form the audience, Rikash wished that he would find it soon. Unfortunately, for the first time in his life, the gods were paying attention to the youngest Salmalin.


End file.
